The Mech and I
by StarscreamsLeftOptic
Summary: AU. Pre-G1. As the threat of war looms and factions are beginning to form, a young Science Academy student takes a post as tutor to the sparklings of a mysterious, remote and wealthy Cybertronian. Will have some SS/Megatron as well as SS/Soundwave
1. Leaving Vos

_Author's Note: _This is my first Transformers fic. I've watched all of G1 online and am obsessed. This is AU-ish in nature and contains slash, so please be forewarned. There will likely be some dubcon and "sticky" elements in this later on, and I'm rating it to reflect future chapters. This is sort of a riff on "The King and I" with a little "Jane Eyre" thrown in. So yeah, not quite crackfic, but I don't blame you for thinking it might be. Also, I just made up Cybertronian monetary units. If there's a real, canon term for it, PLEASE let me know. Thanks!

* * *

I loved flying like this. High enough so that the lights of the city below looked like dots of energon, smooth enough so that the soft currents flowed up and over my wings, and fast enough to make the grounders look up at the sky with their mouthplates open.

I would miss flying this way – especially with _them_.

My comm link crackled to life. "Well, why the frag are you going? Stay here with us, glitch-head. Who needs the slagging Academy anyway?"

"Quiet, Warp. Star's got the right idea. Education is important. If your processor was half as big as your mouth, maybe even _you'd _understand that. By the way, you're breaking formation. Get your aft in gear!"

I laughed and slowed down just a klik as we tightened up again. Yes, I would miss my trine-mates a lot. We'd been together for thousands of vorns and being without them, even for as short a time as I was planning, would be strange. But Thundercracker was right. Education _was _important – to me, anyway. I'd gotten top marks in my classes the orn before and had even been asked to present research on the different forms energon might take throughout the near galaxy at a conference in Iacon City. But I'd had to leave the Academy for lack of money, and there was no way I would just forget my studies and quit. I'd come so far to stop now for any reason, especially one as stupid as finances.

Not having money was nothing new to me. I'd never known my creators. I'd been left as a foundling at a center right outside Vos where sparklings were abandoned pretty often, even though the Cybertronian government said the problem was improving. Ha! Those liars always talked out of both sides of their mouthplates.

Not very many Seekers were ever abandoned and it made me wonder sometimes what the Pit my creators had been thinking. For awhile, I thought there might have something wrong with me, but there wasn't any hitch in my programming and as a sparkling, I was flying better and faster than Seekers three times my age. It's possible my creators were just so poor they couldn't afford another mouth to feed. Energon was once plentiful on Cybertron, but it had been growing scarce over the past few thousand vorns and becoming expensive. I'd earned my keep at the foundling home by keeping an eye on the sparklings there. I'd been good at it, and Coralmoon, the toothless old femme who'd run the place, had been sorry when I'd been accepted into the Cybertron Science Academy since now she'd have to pay someone to do what I'd done for all those years.

I hadn't been trined then – that came a little later. It almost didn't happen at all. I was considered "old" to have never been a part of a trine, and so I was usually passed over by Seekers looking for a third wing. I'd managed to convince myself that I was better off as a lone mech when I met Thundercracker and Skywarp my first year at the Academy at a party that had been given by some of the heavy spacecraft. I'd not been much for parties but there was a shuttle I'd wanted to get to know - a mech named Skyfire who'd been in some of my cosmic chemistry and astrophysics classes - and I knew he'd be there. He had been there – pressed up against a slag of a femme who had obviously enhanced chestplates. I'd been so depressed that I'd taken off for home, literally running into TC, who'd been bored to rust and was leaving too, and Warp, who followed TC anywhere he went. They were a bonded pair that hadn't found the right fit for a third, but they'd both noticed me and when they saw how well I could fly, they'd been impressed. As different as we all were, we bonded pretty quickly. After so many thousands of vorns being alone, it was nice to have a trine … a family.

And now I was leaving them. It made my spark ache to think about it. I didn't want to, but it couldn't be helped. These days, a lot of things could not be helped. I didn't pretend to understand it all.

I slowed down as we approached home. I knew that it would be only a little time before I was back again poking fun at Thundercracker and trying to get Skywarp to ease up on the high grade, but knowing that I was going to be gone even for a little while was beginning to sink in.

We landed gently, one after the other, before transforming and walking into the quiet spire we'd shared for so long. Looking around, I got a lump in my throat, and TC thumped me on the backplates and told me that he and Warp would look over my baggage to make sure I had everything I needed. I didn't mention that I'd already checked and there wasn't much I had to take, anyway. Some research I'd been working on, a few cubes of pricey high grade from Skywarp. That was it. Anything else I'd need, I'd get when I got to my post.

"So this mech you'll be working for. He's a Decepticon?" asked Thundercracker when we got to my room.

I was surprised by the question. "What makes you think that?"

"What else would he be, living in Kaon? They're everywhere there now." TC shrugged. "I just assumed ..."

"He lives right outside Kaon, not in the city itself. I … don't know that much about him, just that he works for the government, travels a lot and has sparklings that need extra tutoring in the sciences because he wants them to get a place in the Academy. He's willing to pay a lot of oolocks for my services."

"I'll _bet_ he's willing to pay a lot of oolocks for your services!" Warp laughed, nudging TC with the edge of his wing. "Especially if he _is_ a Decepticon. I hear they drill constantly and don't have time to go out and _socialize_."

"Go 'face yourself, Warp. He hasn't even seen me and I doubt he ever will," I said, frowning. "The femme at the placement agency says he travels a lot and is barely ever at home,which is why he needs someone to tutor his sparklings. He probably doesn't even know I'm a Seeker and he probably couldn't give a slag. And I _don't_ think he's a Decepticon."

I saw TC give me a look. He knew I didn't like talking about the Decepticons, a bunch of fraghead military-designates who'd escaped from the fighting pits where they belonged and were going all over Cybertron saying that they were sparked to rule over everyone. The consumer-designates were starting to resent it, but what could they do? They weren't built for combat – they were built to serve and help and give pleasure. But it wasn't them I was worried about; they'd soon remember their place. These other mechs had the potential to be real problems.

These so-called "Decepticons" were headed by a silver mech who called himself Megatron. I'd actually met him once, when he'd come on a recruiting trip to Vos. TC and Warp were older than me, and while TC had finished his courses at Cyberton's War Academy and had a respectable job as a patrol craft monitoring Cybertron's southern perimeter, Warp had washed out of school and was living off the remains of his creators' fortune. Warp wasn't smart, but he had gifts a Seeker could only dream of, and somehow this Megatron had heard of him and had come to Vos specifically to try to persuade him to join his faction. I still remembered how the slaghead had strutted in as if he owned the place, talking down to us like we were just-sparked mechs still wet behind the audios.

When TC said that we'd decided, as a trine, that we would not join the Decepticons unless we were all in agreement to it, and we all were _not_, the fragger had left, saying that it was a pity, but he was sure we'd see reason soon enough. Megatron had been pretty arrogant, but polite, to TC and Warp, but he barely even looked at _me _until he'd left. Then he turned his head and we'd locked optics. His were filled with pure hatred, as if he'd known_ I_ was the one against joining him and the rest of the naive fools he'd talked into going to his side. I'd glared at him right back and was a nano-klik away from punching him right in the mouthplates. I'd never felt such hate on sight for any mech.

I really hoped my new employer wasn't a Decepticon. Anyone who'd follow that Megatron fragger couldn't be very intelligent.

"Hey, Warp, go break out the high-grade, huh?" said TC quietly. "Let's give Star the send-off he deserves. Make sure it's the right temperature."

Skywarp didn't have to be asked twice, and he quickly disappeared. TC turned to me with a sigh and I realized at that moment that it had been arranged between the two of them for Warp to go on some errand and leave me alone with TC. I groaned low in my vocal processor. That could only mean a lecture. I hoped the high-grade wasn't just a dupe because I always needed to get slagged off my aft whenever TC gave me one of his "talks."

"Star, we're going to miss you," he paused. "I understand why you don't want to take the oolocks to pay for the Academy from Warp, but … I … we wish you'd put aside that Primus-loving pride of yours and at least consider it. Even with energon as expensive as it is, Warp can afford it. It's not like he's using it anyway other than to buy cubes of high-grade."

"_No_. I already told you, I'm not going to slag around with my servo out expecting to be given everything. That's not my way. I … I need to earn this. I can't explain it any other way, TC. I just need to know, deep down in my spark, that I worked to get where I've gotten."

"I understand, Star, I do, it's just … you'll be so far away," he murmured. "And … and war's coming."

I looked up sharply. "It's not. Don't say that. _Especially _in front of Warp. You know how he is; if he hears that, he'll want to fight, join the fragging Decepticons -"

"Yeah, I know." TC put a servo on my shoulder. "But he's not like you, Star. Fighting is all he has. You know that, too."

I just stared at him. Thundercracker could be really gloomy when he wanted to be. He was a smart mech, but he thought too much and it slowed him down in everything - his flying, the way he interacted with other mechs. He had so much more potential than just a common patrol craft, if he'd get out of his processor a little and just take more chances. I saw the seriousness in his dark-red eyes, though, and felt a little shiver of energy run through me. He was serious – he really thought that there would be war, that the Decepticons would either sway all the military-designates to his cause and somehow, some way, the consumer-designates would oppose him. And how would they do that? By throwing their cleaning implements and energon-refining instruments at them? Most of the Decepticon slagheads were grounders, but there was a rumor that they had worked out some technology that allowed them to fly. Not as well or as fast as a born Seeker or even a heavy cruiser, but still, it was something - _if _it was true. And if it wasn't, it didn't matter: the military-designates were warriors from the first spark.

If there _was _war, it would be over very, very quickly.

"You have to promise me something. A few things, to be honest," he went on. "The first is that you'll be careful. You're going to be way out in Kaon, alone. Try not to slag anyone off there. You'll probably be the only Seeker around and that'll attract attention enough on its own without you adding to it by flapping your mouthplates when it's not necessary."

I grinned. "When have I ever done that? If I tell a mech to go 'face himself, it's usually very necessary!"

He grunted. "That brings me to the second thing. Look, there's no easy way to say this ..." He blew out a loud gust of air and gave me a long, searching look from helm to pede. "You're young and you're beautiful, Star. That's going to attract even more attention – unwanted attention. It might not be a good idea for you to let anyone know how ... inexperienced you are."

I blinked at him slowly. "Inexperienced?"

"You know what I mean. That you've never interfaced before." TC's face-plating was glowing the same color as his eyes. "It might give some mechs the wrong idea, and they may decide to try you. I know you're fast, but in Kaon, that might not be enough. It's different if you find someone that you want to be sparkmates with, but don't lead anyone on. It won't be pretty. If some mech offers to buy you a cube of high-grade, just be aware that it probably isn't because he wants to talk about the latest planetary discoveries or theorems with you."

I looked away, feeling my own faceplates heat up. Sometimes Skywarp teased me about having an unbreached port, but TC had never brought it up until now. It wasn't that I was a prude and thought there was something wrong with interfacing. It's just that I didn't want to hook up with a random mech or femme for a quick 'face, especially not for my first joining. It'd be great to have a sparkmate, the way TC and Warp were bonded, but other than Skyfire, I hadn't really found someone I'd liked in that way. Plus, I had my career to think of. One day I wanted to settle down with a sparkmate and have lots of sparklings, but right now, I wanted to continue my studies and go on great adventures to advance the glory of Cybertron in the fields of intergalactic science and exploration. 'Facing and bonding could wait.

"I'm not a sparkling, a femme or an idiot, _Thundercracker_," I hissed. I only used his full name when I was good and slagged off, and he knew it, and raised his optic ridges in surprise. "I know when a mech just wants to be friendly and when he wants to bend me over. Besides, I'm going to Kaon to earn enough to finish the Academy, not to make friends or sit around refueling stations getting slagged off energon. I probably won't even have that much free time, and my leave joors I'll be spending back here with you and Warp, so spare me the wide optics and wagging digits. I know how to handle myself there."

"All right. Fair enough. I guess that leaves the third thing ..." He took a deep breath through his vents. "I know that we've agreed that we won't join the Decepticons unless we go as a trine. But you have to swear to me on Primus's spark that if it comes to war, you'll consent to all of us joining Megatron's faction."

"What? **NO**!" I shouted, enraged that he'd even ask. He knew how I felt about the Decepticons, and especially Megatron. "First of all, there's not going to be any war! And even if there was, that slagface is no _leader_. I'd sooner follow a garbage transport into the Pit than follow that sorry excuse for a mech anywhere!"

Thundercracker just looked at me calmly looking while I threw my fit. When I'd finished yelling, he said in that same quiet voice, "There's going to be war, Starscream. It may not be today or the solar cycle after that, or the solar cycle after that. It may take tens of thousands of vorns – but there _will _be war. It's coming. I feel it in my spark. And when it does, Warp will want to fight, and so will I. And so will you – it's in our programming. Hopefully if won't come to that, and the consumer-designates will give up on the silly dream that they're just as good as we are. But if they don't and if there is war between us, we'll have to choose sides and we will have to fight. Swear to me you won't stand in the way of that."

TC was giving me that deep stare that I could never really look away from or resist and it made me resent him at that moment. Here it was, right before I was going to leave and work for at least a few thousand solar cycles to earn my keep, and this was my going-away gift – words of doom and a promise to be forced from me. I didn't really blame Thundercracker. He loved Skywarp and only wanted to see him happy, and fighting made Skywarp happy.

But at the same time, I hated the idea of having to even worry about putting aside my dreams of exploration in the cosmos and scientific discovery for the life of a soldier. It didn't seem to me that the consumer-designates would be so stupid as to try to rebel, but something knocked in my spark and I felt a strange sense of dread. TC must have seen it in my optics because he smiled wearily and eased his grip on my shoulder. That little smile sent shivers through me and I immediately felt immensely sad for TC – for all of us.

"I promise," I murmured. "I give you my word on Primus's immortal spark that if there is war, our trine will do our duty and join with those who would fight to keep the natural order of things."

"That's all I ask, Star. Thank you." He smiled wider and made his voice light. "But I hope you're right and there isn't any war, and that you leave the Science Academy at the top of your class and become its pride and joy."

I smiled back, but it wasn't completely genuine. Suddenly I just wanted to crawl into my berth and recharge until the day broke and it was time for me to board the train for the outlands. TC must have noticed the tiredness in my faceplates because he guided me to my berth and made me lie down, saying that the high-grade would keep for when I returned on leave.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Star," he said as I started to drift off. "_How _many sparklings does this mech have?"

"They weren't entirely sure at the agency. Somewhere between three and five," I said drowsily. "But I'll mainly be tutoring a set of twins. The femme at the agency said they're at the age where they'll probably be a pain in the aft, but twins usually are."

"Yeah, and so are trines, so you shouldn't have any problems there." TC said with a grin and started to leave. "Me and Warp'll set our chronos so that we'll have you at the hovertrain station in plenty of time."

I thanked him and listened to the retreat of his stabilizing servos as he went off to the room he shared with Warp. As I drifted off, I thought of my new post and what awaited me there. The last thoughts I had before recharge took over me was not of TC's dire predictions of war or that useless piece of scrap Megatron, but of the twin sparklings that would soon be in my care: Frenzy and Rumble. I remembered the warning from the femme at the agency and chuckled. As young as they were and with such silly names, handling them would be a piece of energon cake.


	2. The Medic

The hover-train station was packed the next day, so much so that only those with chips to ride were allowed inside the terminal. I stood for a moment outside with Thundercracker and Skywarp and tried not to think about what I was about to do. It would be fine. _I_ would be fine. _They_ would be fine. Everything would be _fine_. But my spark was hammering painfully and my vocalizer felt as if there was a crack in it. TC and Warp slagged around with each other to lighten the mood, but we were all a little sad. We stood around in a small circle, the tips of our wings touching and making fun of the grounders who couldn't take their optics off us. Seekers didn't take hover-trains very often, I guessed.

When the announcement came for boarding, none of us moved. I saw a pained flash in Warp's optics. I could feel our trine bond tighten and we formed a closer circle as passengers flowed around us and into the terminal.

"I guess this is it," I said, horrified at how squeaky my vocal processor sounded. My speech patterns were distinctive enough as it was without adding this into the mix. "It won't be for that long. Less than a vorn. I'll be back before you know it!"

"Yeah, but I'm taking over your berth. It always was the best in the house." Skywarp was smiling, but his vocalizer had the same squeak that mine did. "When you come on leave, we'll have to race for it!"

TC laughed. "Warp, even teleporting you're as slow as energon running uphill when it compares to the two of us. Don't worry, Star. Your room is gonna be just the way you left it when you come back. We'll even restock that little hiding place you have under your berth with more high-grade."

My optics widened. "How did you ..."

"Can't keep a secret from a trine-mate," he grinned. "Besides, who do you think had that room before you did?"

I chuckled and drew them closer. "I'm going to miss you two," I murmured. Our bond pulsed and hummed around us and I felt the warmth of it all the way down to my stabilizing servos.

"We'll miss you, too, Star. But it's not like we won't ever talk or anything," said TC. Warp nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, but I don't think the trine bond stretches out all the way as far as Kaon."

"Maybe not, but you can write to us. Tell us all about your new job, the sparklings …"

"And if you meet any Decepticons!"

Several mechs and femmes turned to glare at us, and I felt my faceplates sizzle as TC harshly whispered: "Warp!"

"What? He's going to Kaon. It's not like it isn't a possibility."

TC shook his head and shot me an apologetic look. I just shrugged. It was Warp being Warp, and considering that I wouldn't be seeing either of them for awhile, I was all right with that.

"You'd better go, Star. They've just called for all passengers to report to the platforms." TC stroked a hand over my wing. "Take care of yourself, all right? Don't let the sparklings frag you around too much -"

"- And make sure to get loaded off your aft as often as possible. I'll bet this mech has a fully stocked energon cabinet -"

"- Keep up with your studies and your flying -"

"- And if you ever finally manage to get your seal broken, we want details -"

"_Skywarp_!"

"All right, all right, sorry. That was wrong," he grumbled, then grinned. "TC doesn't want details, but _I _do."

TC groaned and shoved him with an elbow. "Go before he starts giving you advice on what positions … oh, Primus, never mind! Have a good trip, Star. Write us when you get settled."

"I will. Thanks, you two. For everything."

I squeezed both their servos and walked into the terminal. At the entry, I turned around and they waved at me, both of them smiling, but with sadness in their optics. I waved back, sure I had the same sort of expression. When I got inside the terminal, I found a window and looked out in time to see them both transform and fly off. It took everything I had to not fly after them. It hadn't seemed real to me until that moment; I was _leaving _Vos. For the first time in forever, I'd be without my trine mates. I felt nervous and apprehensive, but there was a tiny trill of excitement thrumming through my wires, too.

… But that died as soon as I got on the hover train

The femme at the agency insisted that my employer wanted me to go by train rather than fly. It's why, as I'd told TC, I didn't think the mech knew I was a Seeker. That hadn't been put on my applications, which surprised me. The femme said that all my employer required was a military-designate with a strong science background. It hadn't bothered me since it meant I wouldn't have to stockpile the energon needed for the flight from Vos to Kaon. But the train was … tiny! I fit into it all right but it obviously was made for grounders. There wasn't one seat that looked as if it would accommodate my wings. A femme who was working the aisles and scanning passenger chips noticed me looking around and she did manage to find me something toward the front car where I could stretch out a little and my wings weren't too cramped.

"We're not used to having flyers on here," she said, eying me with a little smile. "Are you being reprogrammed?"

"No, just thought I'd try it out … different perspectives and all."

I was always a little awkward around femmes. Military-designates had no female counterparts, so we really didn't interface or bond or even interact much with femmes. But they seemed to be attracted to Seekers like glitch-mice to energon shavings. She smiled at me again, and I hoped that she'd leave me alone soon. I didn't want to have to fake wanting to recharge, but if I had to pull that out of my aft, I would.

"Where are you going?" she asked as she helped me get situated in the booth. I noticed that she was not-so-accidentally brushing up against my wings.

"To Kaon. I've … got a job out there. I'm actually on leave from the Science Academy, but -"

I stopped. As soon as I'd said "Kaon," her optics had gone chilly and she jerked away from me as if I'd had sent shock pulses through my servos.

"I see," she said in a voice colder than a coolant bath. "Enjoy your trip."

Without another word she stalked away from me. I was a little relieved and a lot confused about her abruptness, then I realized that she must have thought I was a Decepticon. That made me angry; did I _look _like a fragging Decepticon? Stupid femme. Her magna fuses were lopsided anyway.

I got as comfortable as I could and the compartment filled up. The grounders eyed me with surprise, and some of them seemed really uncomfortable, jostling each other and staring at me not with curiosity, but with fear mixed in with a little anger. I grit my dentics and stared out the window. My mood got darker and I was scowling when we finally pulled out of the station, and I left Vos wishing that I'd listened to Warp and stayed where I was.

* * *

"Sir? Sir?"

I jolted out of recharge and forced my optics to go online. I didn't even know I'd slipped under. A femme – not the same one who'd fragged me off earlier – was leaning over me. I didn't understand what she wanted until I noticed a glowing cube in her hand.

"We've begun the refuel service, sir. Your cube …?"

"Oh, thanks. It looks good." I paid her no attention and greedily swilled the energon. It wasn't high-grade, but it was nicely refined and smooth. I'd been so nervous that morning that I didn't think to recharge and now I was hungry for it. With my tanks refueled, I readjusted myself in my compartment and glanced out the window, hoping to see something that would hold my interest for longer than a klik or two.

I had tried to relax and enjoy the train ride at first, the different motions and sounds and sights, but it was just too fragging slow compared to how fast I could fly. I had been curious on how Cybertron would look from a grounder's point of view, but even that became boring. It was just buildings and towers and more buildings and on and on endlessly. It was a little embarrassing to think that my planet looked much better from way up in the sky, but there was no denying it. Everything was orderly and clean and neat and well-put together, but it was just so … plain. Vos at least had some character to it. These cities in the outlands just looked as if they'd been mass-produced and assembled by a bunch of bored consumer-designates. Kaon would be a little different, but it would be different because it was being overrun by _Decepticons_, and Primus only knew how much they would change things around, and not for the better, either.

I polished off the rest of my energon in a nano-klik and immediately felt the pull back into recharge. It wasn't until the femme woke me up again that I realized I'd slept for almost an entire half-orn. I was more tired than I'd realized, or that energon had a real kick to it. I was surprised when the femme put another cube in front of me. It hadn't been very long since I'd refueled.

"Um, thanks?"

She just nodded and walked on. I glanced out the window and couldn't really tell where we were, but I assumed we were getting on near to the heart of the outlands. I turned to my cube, not really hungry for it – my tanks were still full. I put it aside and reclined, expecting to hear the sounds of other passengers refueling. I didn't hear anything, though, and I poked my head around my seat to see what was going on. My optics widened in shock: hardly anyone had energon in front of them. A few mechs had homemade cubes that swirled with dirty, barely refined energon, and there were some femmes feeding their sparklings energon from a piston drip, but I was the only one who had refined energon in my servos. I saw optics greedily sizing up my cube, then looking at my face and glancing away in frustration or anger. I was confused – why hadn't anyone else been served? I'd had two already.

"Excuse me?" I managed to get the attention of the femme attendant as she bustled past me. "Is there a reason the others don't have their cubes yet? Some of them look like they're about to offline."

The femme looked startled. "A cube? Oh, of energon, you mean? Well, refueling wasn't included in their travel fare. It _was_ included in yours. Is there something wrong with your energon?"

"No … but ..." I wasn't sure what to say. This mech I was going to be working for must've had quite a few oolocks to be able to splash out for high-quality energon like this. I felt torn between feeling smug and uncomfortable. "No, I was just wondering."

She gave me an odd look and walked off quickly, glancing at me over her shoulder. Just fragging wonderful. She probably thought I was a Decepticon, too.

I pushed the cube away and sighed softly through my vents. I should've just flown, to the Pit with this train slag. I wasn't a fragging grounder who didn't have any other options. I was a Seeker – not made to be shoved into a little compartment and looked at like slag. I looked around again, optics narrowing at anyone who dared to so much as blink at me. Most looked away very quickly, which pleased me but made me feel a little guilty. I got to the mech across the aisle from me and was surprised when he met my optics, his own bright blue ones looking on with hardly any expression at all.

Then I saw them drop to my cube of energon, and the look on his faceplates changed. It hadn't been so long since I'd left the foundling home – I knew that look. It was _hunger_. The mech looked as if he hadn't recharged in orns. He was older than me, but not by a lot, and was white with red stripes on his structure. There was a case next to him that had the Cybertronian symbol for the regenerative spark on it – our symbol of life and health. I'd noticed him earlier: He was the one mech who had not looked at me in fear or disgust when I'd gotten on the train.

I grabbed the cube and leaned across the aisle. "Hey, are you interested? If I take another sip, my tanks'll burst."

He raised his optics, startled. "What … are you serious? That's premium energon! Double-processed, top-shelf!"

"Yeah, well it is good, but my tanks are full and I don't think I should have anymore anyway. So if you want it ..."

The mech banged a servo on his helm. "Primus, of course! You're a Seeker! Too much ultra-refined energon twists your diodes up, right? You mechs are really energon-efficient, you know?"

He plucked the cube from my servos. "Guess I will take this, since you're offering and since I'm doing you a favor by keeping you from corroding your circuitry."

He took a long swallow and looked less pale in the faceplates immediately. "Primus, that's good. Hey - what's your top speed?"

"What? Oh, uh, 40 tetravoles per klik."

"That's _it_?" He sounded disappointed. "Well, you look pretty young, so I guess that's not too shabby. You'll add five to seven tetravoles easily over your next two spark-sets. And actually, if you're as young as you look, 40 tetras now is pretty slagging impressive. Must stress your wing struts plenty, though."

I stared at him as he swallowed down the rest of the cube. "You're a ground mech. How … how do you know anything about Seeker speeds?"

"Just finished coursework on Seeker anatomy last term. Never met one outside the classroom, though." He wiped the excess energon from the sides of his mouth and extended a servo to me. "Name's Ratchet."

"Starscream." I shook his servo, still feeling a little dazed. "You're a restoration expert?"

"_Was._ Used to strip parts from the power factories and rebuilt some of the old munitions towers. But I scored high enough on the diagnostics to get into Mediplex. Training as a medic now. I'm actually pretty much done. I'm on my way to Halcyon to do my practicals."

I smirked. "Halcyon? You must've hit the high-grade pretty hard during exams."

Halcyon was where old and broken-down mechs and femmes went to offline. They were usually beyond all hope, but the government slagfaces sent them there so that it could appear that all that could be done for them was being done. Usually the fraggers from Mediplex who were assigned there either were lazy slaggers that didn't want to do much work or were not good enough for better assignments.

Ratchet looked at me coldly. "I'm second in my class at Mediplex. I could've gone anywhere, but I requested Halcyon."

"You _wanted_ to go there? Why?" I sputtered. "You could go to Eor or Tryon or even the Iacon Surgical Colony! The mechs that get sent to Halcyon are all but scrap, just hanging on by a spark!"

"If there's a spark, then there's life. And hope," said Ratchet. "I figure if I can learn how to bring a mech back from the brink of deactivation, then I'll be _some _kinda medic. Sure I could go to Iacon, but then what? I don't want a cushy post doing system diagnostics and tightening femmes' tubing and all that slag. I want to actually do some _good _and make a difference. Otherwise, I would've just stayed in the factories."

He wiped his mouth again. "Wow, that hit the spot. Thanks. Where are you headed?"

I ducked my head. Here was where he'd throw the empty cube at me and turn away. And I had really been enjoying our talk, too.

"Kaon. But it's not the way it sounds! I'm _not _a Decepticon!"

I nearly shouted the words and several heads swiveled toward us. I didn't pay them much attention, keeping my optics on Ratchet. To my relief, he didn't turn away, just nodded thoughtfully and rubbed his chin.

"I didn't figure you were. Guess that's why you're taking the hover-train, huh?"

"Actually, that was the idea of my employer. I could've flown, but I think he insisted I come this way."

"Makes sense. This corridor is swarming with those Deception slaggers." His blue optics glinted with anger. "They're on a recruiting spree and they try to snatch up as many of you war mechs as they can find. There aren't a lot of flyers out this way, and Seekers are about as hard to find as Primus's lugnuts. You would've been a prime target for recruiting, and I hear they don't exactly like hearing the word 'no.'"

I growled low in my vocalizer. "They'd hear more than that from me. They already tried to recruit one of my trine-mates. Their so-called _leader _came all the way out to Vos himself."

"Megatron? You've met that slaghead?" Ratchet bowed his helm slightly. "He's been going through towns, riling up the war mechs. Someone needs to yank his transistors out. He's even been saying that home-goods had nothing to do with the rebellion. Can you believe the manifolds on that fragger?"

"Well, the military-designates _are _the ones who fought the rebellion and drove the Quintessons off Cybertron … they wielded the weaponry. Without that, the rebellion would've sunk like slag in a fire pond!"

"Oh, and so the homers just sat around on their afts eating energon bon-bons?" Ratchet's optics flared a clear, stark blue. "We processed the energon, did refits and kept the war mechs in fighting shape! Without the homers, the Quintessons would've just waited for the war mechs to offline from lack of energon or repairs!"

I stayed quiet for a time. I thought he was overstating the contribution to the war effort. Military-designates had its own medics, its own energon fields, its own workers within the army. They would likely have prevailed without the consumer-designates having to do much. And as it was, scores more military-designates went offline in the war in comparison to consumer-designates. It wasn't a fair comparison.

But still, Ratchet had a point – it was stupid for Megatron to insist that the consumer-designates had _no _part in the rebellion. That would just incite them even more and make it that much more difficult to persuade them to stop thinking that they had a higher place in Cybertronian society than they did.

"Well, one thing I think we can agree on is that Megatron is a slagging son of a glitch."

Ratchet grinned and seemed relieved to change the subject. "I'll drink to that – or, I would if I had some more energon. You said your employer paid for the train. What'll you be doing out in Kaon?"

"Tutoring. I'm on leave from the Science Academy. The mech I'll be working for has sparklings that he wants brought up to speed so that they have a good chance of passing the diagnostics and being accepted to the Academy when they're of age."

"You're at the Science Academy, huh? Impressive." He tilted his helm at me. "What do you want to do when you're finished school?"

"Exploration, primarily. I'd love to go on a deep-space assignment, scouting out different sources of energon."

"Well, we could definitely use _that_." Ratchet looked down at the empty cube in regret. "I was only able to afford enough oolocks to refuel for one mega-cycle. Energon's getting scarcer by the nano-klik here. But aren't most of the planets in the nearer solar systems organic?"

"Some are, yes."

He shuddered. "There's no way I'd go to an organic planet. All that moisture, and I hear the ground is like barely hardened slag. Makes my wiring knot up just thinking about it!"

"Well, I wouldn't stay on an organic planet, either. Most don't have any sort of intelligent life on them," I said with a shrug. "But they might have some resources that can be converted to energon. I wouldn't stay forever, of course – just long enough to tap into whatever was there and return to Cybertron as quickly as possible."

"Hmph. Well, maybe one day I'll read about you in the dispatches and see that you've been awarded the Cog of Primus for your discovery of alternative energon resources," said Ratchet with a smile. "And I'll be able to _read _all about organic planets without having to step a ped on one."

He yawned suddenly and rubbed his optics. "Hey, I don't mean to be rude, but do you mind if I get a bit of recharge in? I'm going to be going right into the thick of it in Halcyon. Might be the last chance for awhile for me to get some shut-optic on a full tank. I appreciate the energon, though. You ever find yourself in need of a refit, look me up. I'm gonna be the best there is."

I couldn't help but grin at his arrogance. "In order to see you, I'd have to be a klik away from off-lining. I don't think I want to be that far-gone just to get proof of your _talents_."

"Heh. I don't know. You're tougher than you look, I think." He smiled at me and I felt a heat spreading across my faceplates. "Good talking to you, Starscream. Starscream. Think I'll remember that name ..." he said softly, his optics starting to flicker and dim.

In another few kliks, his vocalizer was rattling loudly as he slipped into recharge. I watched him for awhile, feeling a little annoyed. A nice, smart mech, and pretty good-looking, too, for a grounder, and it was just my luck that after this, I'd probably never see him again.

* * *

I don't know when I slipped into recharge. Maybe listening to Ratchet wheeze and rumble had lulled me into shutting down for a moment. I woke up suddenly, not knowing where I was at first. It all gradually came back to me and I looked around. Ratchet's compartment was empty. At first, I thought that he might be in the refresher, but I saw that his kit was gone, too. Consulting my inner chrono, I realized I'd been asleep for longer than I'd realized. Ratchet had probably gotten off long before and was probably now elbow deep in the innards of some poor, broken-down mech. I didn't envy him, but I didn't feel sorry for him, either; I admired him. I couldn't think of the last time I could say that of a grounder, and a consumer-designate, at that.

I heard sounds and the train's front compartment opened. The femme I'd first encountered – the one who nearly warped away from me once she found out my destination - walked in and stood right in the doorway. She looked down at me, laser-eyed, with her arms crossed. I glowered back, about to tell her that if she was offering more energon, I had a suggestion of just where she could put it. I didn't get a chance to say anything. Her optics bore into mine as she said in a low hiss:

"Kaon, next stop. The next stop is Kaon."


	3. The Next Voice You Hear

_Author's Note: _Thanks for the support and such fantastic reviews. Really glad I'm not falling on my face here. Just wanted to mention that I know I'm taking some canonical G1 stuff and using it here. I figured since it's AU, might as well, heh? But didn't want anyone to get confused. Also, I may have given the wrong impression to a reviewer - this story will possibly have dubcon, not out-and-out noncon. It's a little hard to explain, but wanted to be clear since not everyone is into stories with graphic non-con scenes, which this story won't have. All right, thanks, as always for reading!

* * *

The station was just a little metal square on a cracked pillar. There were barely any lights, no energon dispensaries, no transport-chip offices, no other mechs. When the femme attendant pointed me toward the exit of the train, I thought she was mistaken, but **KAON, **written in sloppy Cybertronian script, was posted on a bent sign right above the little square.

Apparently, not a lot of traffic came through the area, and looking around at the wreckage, garbage and slag everywhere, it was easy to understand why.

I'd never thought much about Kaon. Neither had the rest of the planet. It was out-of-the-way, right on the aft-end of Cybertron. It didn't produce anything of value and it was Primus-awful ugly, too. And this was _before _the Decepticons had come. Now it was a wasteland, just stretches of dark, craggy terrain as far as the optic could see.

But that was _all _I saw, and that worried me. I'd been expecting someone to be waiting at the station to greet me. I didn't think my employer himself would come as he was obviously a busy mech, but I thought maybe a delegation or a convoy. Or even a Cybertronian cruiser that I could follow would have been nice. I didn't have a clue where his home was located, and standing there in that pitiful excuse for a train "station" made my spark wrench painfully. If I hadn't known the good reputation of the agency that had employed me, I would've thought that I was in the middle of some sort of stupid prank, one even Warp wouldn't touch.

"Maybe I'm early," I muttered to myself, scanning the area for any signs of … anything. No luck. I set my scanning sensors as high as they could go while in mech mode hoping to spot someone approaching. No luck. Feeling exposed and a little ridiculous, I transformed and took to the air to see if I could spot anything that looked like a mech or even a building where I could ask directions.

_Directions? That's a brilliant plan – get directions a place that you have no designation for. While you're at it, why not inquire about the health of the employer whose given name you don't even know?_

I circled slowly, scanning the topography and getting more of the same. Beginning to get frustrated, I climbed higher, spinning around so that I could see as much as the immediate vicinity as possible. My sensors were online, of course, but since I'd never been in this region, that didn't do me a lot of good. I took another loop around in desperation, heading over a deeply grooved hillside hoping to see something familiar on the other side. An actual _city _would have been nice.

I cleared the hill and cut my engines in shock. There _was_ something on the other side. Familiar? Pit no. Disgusting was more like it. I transformed into mech mode and floated a little toward it, but careful to keep my distance. There was no mention of _this _in the datascreens I'd read on Kaon.

_This _was a large structure almost the size of a mid-size Cybertronian city. It was raised from the area around it on a base of twisted metal and other scraps, and spiraled up and out into a flat dome. It almost looked like a living thing, pulsing with a sort of grotesque energy from inside it; it was lit here and there and my instruments detected the presence of Cybertronians in and around the structure. I didn't even want to think about what sort of mechs would actually _live _in something like that, and I didn't want to have to ask _them _for directions, either.

There had been rumors that the Decepticons had built a fortified base in Kaon somewhere, but I'd just assumed it was underground since so many of the slagging Decepticons had worked in the mines vorns ago when the Quintessons were still on the planet. I turned back the way I'd come, looking over my shoulder at the citadel. Not even Megatron would be that twisted in the CPU to build something like that on purpose … would he?

I transformed back into my jet mode and was about to go in a different direction when my sensors picked up something moving near where I had left the train. I focused my scanners on the spot and saw that it was a femme, but that's all I could pick up. Relieved, I went back to mech mode and eased my way down.

The sound of my transformation startled her and she stared up at the sky with wide, gold optics, holding her hands over her audios. As I got closer, I noticed that this was an older femme, almost elderly. Her faceplates were warped in several places and her derma had a dusty gray cast to it that was common in mechs and femmes of a certain age. Her eyes were lively, though, and once she got over my sudden appearance, she stood back and looked me up and down as if she were appraising a new energon source.

"Are you here to collect a tutor?" I gave her what Warp called my 'charming,' manifold-melting smile. "I was beginning to think I'd been forgotten."

She stared at me so intently that if I didn't know better, I'd have thought I was being scanned. I relaxed, knowing that no consumer-designate had that sort of software.

"A Seeker? You can't be from the agency. They never send flyers here."

My smile deflated. Maybe this old girl didn't have any manifolds to melt.

"Well, they've sent _me_. I'm Starscream. I'm here to -"

"I know your name and I know why you're here." She frowned at me and looked slightly troubled. "Master said nothing about sending for a flyer."

"He might not have known. They didn't – er, it was left off my application. An oversight."

I tried the smile again. It didn't work any better the second time. She glared at me before exhaling loudly through her vents. I heard a slight rattle as she did so; it sounded like her original dentics had been replaced and hadn't been tightened properly.

"All right. I suppose you'll do. I am Eltronia." She bowed slightly. "I run the Master's household in his absence. I would have been here sooner, but was ... delayed. I hope you've not been waiting long. We have a long journey ahead of us, though I can't think how we'll make it. I assumed you were a grounded mechanism."

I twitched my wings. "Being a flyer, I can get to wherever we're going in a shorter amount of time than a ground mech."

"Yes, but since _I _cannot fly, I don't have that luxury, now do I?" she snapped. "And since I am the one who knows the location of Master's new compound, it is _my _speed you should be concerned with."

I wanted to ask her if her _speed _would get us to our destination some time this stellar cycle, but I held it back. I didn't like this femme, but it wouldn't be a good idea to slag her off before I'd even worked one orn.

"I could carry you and you could direct me."

"I don't like heights," she said shortly. "Can you track grounded forms from the air?"

"Of course. But -"

"Good. Then you will follow me from above. I will move as fast as I can, but my circuitry isn't what it used to be. We will be traveling northwest to begin with. After that, it gets … complicated, so keep me in your sights at all time."

Without another word, she pivoted and transformed into a small Cybertronian hovercraft. I tried not to show any surprise, but I'd never met a consumer-designate with a mobile alt-form before. I knew that some wealthy creators paid scientists to modify their sparklings, but those were usually military-designates – and mechs. I couldn't wrap my processor around why a femme whose family was rich enough and cared enough to modify her would be keeping house in a place like this. Such a thing was only logical if she were intimately tied to my employer in some way, but if she were his spark-mate or one of his codewriters, she probably would've said so.

I'd been in Kaon barely two kliks, and already everything was a mystery. I _hated _mysteries.

Shaking off my curiosity about Eltronia, I transformed, too, and hovered a bit above her. "A northwestern heading? We'll be going near that big … whatever it is on the other side of the cascades."

"Kolkular? Yes, we will be passing it. It is the capitol of Kaon," she said, her vocalizer sounding muffled. "I would suggest you stay out of its airspace unless you like being used for target practice. It houses a Decepticon-run fortress, and they don't like unexpected guests or interruptions."

She sped off, leaving me in a cloud of rust chips. I was annoyed, but I couldn't help but be somewhat impressed: She could move pretty fast for a glitchy, miserable old femme. Still, I knew I would be able to overtake her easily if I wanted, so I remained grounded to give her some lead time.

When I thought that enough time had passed that I would be able to track her at a comfortable cruising speed, I blasted into the air, set my instruments to course-correct whenever the ground vehicle did. She was just a blip on my scanning screen, and her speed stayed constant. Maybe she just _looked_ old.

When I'd climbed and reached an optimal cruising speed, I put my guidance system more or less on auto-nav, and my thoughts wandered. I wondered what TC and Warp were doing right then, and if they missed me yet or were they too busy 'facing each other to really notice my absence. I tried tugging on the trine bond, but got nothing but static. Then I thought about Ratchet, and wondered if there were correspondence consoles at the Halcyon complex. I was sure that if I wrote to him, he'd remember me, since I saved him from going into stasis shock with that cube of energon. Besides, if he had studied the anatomy of Seekers, that meant might know about those special little valves over our wings, the ones that if you pulled just right …

My processor pinged and I snapped to attention, thinking I had drifted off course, but a quick check showed that I was still maintaining speed and heading, shadowing the ground vehicle. I probed the area with my sensors and dark spots popped up onto my screen. _Moving _dark spots. Usually that indicated other aircraft in the vicinity, but I would've heard engines or thrusters or something. I wondered if some kind of interference was fragging up my instruments, when I heard a low, humming sound.

Swinging in the direction of the noise, I almost lost altitude. I was in the shadow of Kolkular, close enough to see the melded cables and wires that snaked around the base. But that wasn't what catching my attention. I suddenly understood what those dark blots on my scanning screen were. They were mechs. Not flyers, _ground _mechs. Ground mechs with _flight_ capabilities.

Decepticons.

And they were headed straight for me.

I consulted my tools and saw that there weren't _that _many – only five or six, and they flew like slag. They were uncoordinated and kept bumping into each other. I could easily outrun them, but if I overshot my escort in this terrain, I might get lost, and I didn't have enough fuel for a sustained flight. As much as I'd liked Ratchet, I was sorry now that I'd given him my extra energon.

I saw a flash of light come toward me and my processor went blank for a moment, but I rebooted immediately and all of my systems came online without difficulty. Still, I didn't feel quite right; I was tingling from helm to aft and my altitude had dropped slightly.

Deciding that my best bet was to fly a klik or two faster and just rely on my instruments to keep the femme on my scanning screen, I moved on as if I hadn't noticed anything unusual -

I frowned. I _moved on_ as if I hadn't noticed anything unusual -

I wasn't moving on.

I did a quick scan of my systems. Everything checked out – my tanks were full enough to sustain flight, my thrusters were operational, my circuitry was fine, but I couldn't fragging _move_. I felt my vents whirring and my engines heating almost to the point of overload as I tried to increase speed enough to go somewhere – anywhere! A cold laugh washed over me and my scanner showed that I was now right in the center of a cloud of mechs.

"What's your hurry, Seeker? No time for a mech-to-mech talk?"

I was immobile, so I couldn't turn and see who was speaking. They must have realized that, because they surrounded me in a loose circle, moving around me so that I could get a look at all of them. There was no doubt that they were Decepticons. Their optics were Pit-red and they had those idiotic insignias etched into their chestplates. None of them was as tall as me in mech form, but not only could I not move, I couldn't transform out of my alternate mode. This was getting better and better.

I think that the one who spoke first was the one directly in front of me. He was dark with yellow accents, blue servos and wore a dark-red visor. He grinned before leaning on my helm and stroking my wings.

"A Seeker! Aren't you just as cute as all Pit? But you're headed the wrong way. The fortress and the recruiting station are _behind _you. We thought you were a little lost and figured we'd help set you straight."

"I know where I'm going, and it's not _there_."

I could sound pretty threatening in mech mode, but in jet form, my vocalizer was compressed and my voice came out almost as high-pitched as a femme's. The slagger giggled and let me go.

"This is your lucky orn, Seeker. We're sky-testing our newest weapon against the slag filth who question the supremacy of the Decepticons! It is a mechanism immobilizer – it locks a mech into whatever form he was in when caught by the rays and he _stays _there until we decide to free him. If we ever do. How are you enjoying being our guinea pigatron?"

He and the rest laughed loudly. I felt coolant beading up under my wings. If I stayed locked in jet mode, I'd burn through my surplus of energon very quickly. If I remained in jet form after my energon reserves had been depleted, my systems could suffer a major lockup or even shut down altogether. I thought briefly about the femme on the ground and wondered if she'd noticed I was gone yet. She _had _warned me to stay clear of this area, but part of me wondered if she'd known something like this might happen, and so insisted I fly instead of following her in mech mode. Maybe she thought I was after her job.

"Let's take you to Megatron," the mech said. "I'm sure he'd be happy to see you."

"Yessss," warbled a voice close to my aft. "He will be very pleased … pleased."

The first mech looked over in annoyance. "Shrapnel, no one was talking to you." He grabbed my wings again. "What do you say, Seeker? Join us! Come with us to meet the mighty Megatron and win glory as a Decepticon."

Although I couldn't move, it suddenly occurred to me that my systems were functioning normally, and so I possibly could activate some of my defense programming. I tried something small – an electronic shockpulse through the derma of my wings, and was rewarded with a shriek when the mech hastily let me go.

All the laughing stopped. The mech was clicking in pain, rubbing his servos. Cackling in triumph, I spread the electropulses to include my entire chassis.

"Unless you want more where _that _came from, you'll let me go before you're picking pieces of your helm out of your aft," I barked. "And you can tell Megatron to lick my ball bearings. I wouldn't join that fragger if he invited me to sip high-grade out of that bucket he calls a head!"

The mech groaned but glared at me, and I felt the rest closing in on my position.

"That was a mistake, Seeker," he growled. "We won't have our glorious leader insulted! In order to lick your ball bearings – as you put it – mighty Megatron will have to _find_ them first. And perhaps he will let us help him in that task!"

A sharp, cruel grin stretched his faceplates. "Kickback, Shrapnel, Venom – stand by to secure him. Barrage, hand me that _other_ weapon we're supposed to be testing: The null ray."

Null ray? I didn't like the sound of that. I still couldn't move, but I kept my surface electrified. The mech in charge saw this and chuckled nastily.

"You're wasting energon, Seeker. Your little tricks will be nicely neutralized by the null ray. Don't worry – we'll be there to catch you when your systems fail and your engines shut down completely. Perhaps after a reboot and a little … reformatting of your CPU, you'll be a little more friendly."

I said nothing, but my wiring was humming fitfully. If they were telling the truth, and that weapon would enable them to immobilize me, wipe my processor clean and reformat me to their will, I might wake up not only as a Decepticon, but without a trace of who I'd used to be. No more TC or Warp, no Science Academy -

I had to find a way out of there - I thought about possibly re-diverting all my energy sources to my thrusters. Maybe I could tear my way out -

Suddenly, I heard a loud humming in my audios. I thought it was a glitch related to this immobilizer I'd been subjected to, but a feedback loop lanced pain across my processors and I suddenly heard a voice directly in my audios:

**Knell Manor. Say it. Now.**

The intense pain faded, but the crackling sounds remained, and my CPU felt as if it were physically being poked and squeezed. The voice came again louder, more urgent:

**Knell Manor. Say it. Now.**

I shuddered. What new slag was this? It wasn't enough that they were torturing me, but they were playing with my frequency modulator, too?

"What? Who is that speaking? Who's there? What are you saying?"

The mech in front of me grinned and pushed on my wing. "Trying to pretend your processor's suddenly glitchy, eh? We've seen that trick before. Oh, you're _perfectly _fit to be a Decepticon. Barrage, what is taking so long? You _did _charge the ray before we left base, didn't you?"

"Sure I did, Bombshell, but nobody mentioned having to _assemble_ it!" There was some cursing and grumbling, and then: "Okay, there. The pins are in place. Here."

I felt something pass over my wing and the mech called Bombshell floated in front of me, armed with a slender shoulder-mounted laser. I saw the edge of the weapon sparkling dangerously and that same feedback loop scraped across my processor and the voice came again, louder and almost angry:

**Knell Manor! **_**Say**_ **it. **_**Now.**_

"Knell Manor?" I repeated in a daze. "Knell Manor -"

Bombshell squinted at me and lowered the weapon slightly. "What was that you said, Seeker?"

**Knell Manor.**

"Knell Manor." My vocalizer crackled. I wasn't sure where the voice was coming from, but this wasn't the time or place for those sort of questions. "Knell Manor!"

I saw Bombshell glance to the side, where Kolkular was located. His companions were buzzing amongst themselves, and I could detect some doubt there. He lowered the null ray just a little more and studied me closer.

"What do you know about Knell Manor, Seeker?"

That was a good question. I was about to pull an excuse of out of my aft when my processor throbbed, and I heard:

**Tell him: You are expected there. Search drones will be deployed if you have not arrived within three megacycles.**

"I … am a guest at Knell Manor," I said, wishing that I were in mech form so that these slaggers could see me scowl. I looked _terrifying _when I scowled. "If I don't show my faceplates there in the next _two _megacycles, and if there's so much as a scratch on me, you'll be prying these toys of yours out of your valves once the search drones are done with you!"

The buzzing around me turned into garbled murmurs, and I could see the mech starting to look a little uncertain.

"Bombshell, maybe we should release him," the slagger named Barrage said nervously. "If he really is supposed to be there -"

"No. He's lying." Bombshell brought the weapon up again and pressed it right against the underside of my cockpit. "If he were really going to Knell Manor, he wouldn't have come this way. Some loose lip-plated fool mentioned the name somewhere and the Seeker overheard it and is trying to confuse us."

The pulsing returned, and then there was:

**Mention: The raid on this area six orns ago necessitated an alteration in route.**

"The raid here was barely six orns ago and you expect me to take a direct route?" I snapped at Bombshell, trying to seem as if the muzzle digging into the plating of my cockpit was the least of my concerns. "Are your transistors where your exhaust valve should be or are you simply incompetent? Oh, the _mighty _Megatron must _love _your intellect!"

Bombshell gasped and fell away from me. "Kickback – turn off the immobilizer immediately!"

The numbness I felt in my frame disappeared almost at once and I was able to move again. I immediately transformed into mech mode and grabbed Bombshell by his throat, squeezing into the delicate plating. Behind him were his friends, all of them colored in some variation of the gray-yellow-blue theme, some with visors, some without. None of them seemed so menacing now that I could look them in the optics. I snatched the weapon from Bombshell's servos and jammed it right into his fragging diodes.

"What did you call this, Bombshell? A 'null ray'? Well, I have a guess on what it does and how it might affect a mechanism's functions, but I could be wrong." My digit tightened around the trigger. "Let's see how close to the mark I am -"

I winced slightly as the feedback loop returned and scrambled my processor for a few kliks.

**No. Release him. Continue your journey. Maintain heading and increase speed: 10 tetravoles. You will overtake the femme in three mega-kliks.**

I grunted, but didn't let go of the Decepticon. There was no way in Pit I was going to let this slagger off so easily. He'd wasted some of my time, so it seemed only fair to me that I got to waste some of his - and a few of his transistors, too. Another painful feedback loop lashed my processor and I had to fight not to show that I was in pain.

**That was not a request. Release him: immediately.**

I was about to tell whoever it was to frag off, when I felt the weapon start to heat up in my servos, warming my digits a little bit more than was comfortable. I wasn't sure what ... whoever it this was thought he was trying to pull, but there was nothing he could say that would persuade me to let the slaghead go.

**The ray will overload in 2 kliks if you do not release Bombshell now and return the weapon to him. Result of overload: severing of digits.**

Okay, so he'd found an argument to convince me. He'd gotten lucky. I grit my dentics and opened my servo to release my grip. Bombshell coughed weakly and rubbed his throat. The rest scurried behind him, staring at me with wavering optics.

**Return the weapon to Bombshell. Status: Deactivated. Threat to you: nonexistent. **

"Great timing," I muttered. Bombshell gave me a puzzled look, but went on massaging his damaged plating.

"I apologize," he said in a tone that could only come from a slightly dented vocal processor. "We were only doing as commanded -"

"You're lucky I'm in a hurry," I growled as I tossed the null ray at him. "Get away from me before I decide that punctuality is beside the point."

Bombshell gave me a fearful look and they washed away from me, flying unsteadily back to the fortress. Several of them glanced back as they flew, and I remained in mech mode, arms crossed, watching them until they were mere dots against the backdrop of the towering dome.

I kept my menacing expression on, but I was shaken and stunned by what had happened. Not so much the almost-being-blasted-into-components part, though that wouldn't have been good. But the _voice_. It was more than just a whisper in my audios - it had filled my frame from helm to servos, echoing through my processor and right down to my very spark. I'd never experienced anything like it.

I couldn't imagine who or what it could've been – the great god of Cybertron, maybe? But then what would Primus be doing in a slaghole like Kaon? And even if he had been around, didn't a being as great as he was have better things to do than save a random Seeker's aft? And just what was Knell Manor, anyway?

The crackling started in my audios again, making me jump. An image scrolled in my CPU of a sprawling, guarded compound with gleaming spires and firelakes nearby. Before I could truly grasp the information, the image was gone.

**Knell Manor: It is your destination. Go. The femme: is not aware of your deviation. Do not tell her.**

"Primus? Is that you?" I whispered hesitantly, spinning around. There was static and then a sound that I couldn't identify at first – and then I did.

It was laughter. Uproarious, tank-shaking laughter. Then it stopped abruptly, and the pressure I felt in my processor was gone.

I floated for several mega-kliks, looking into the horizon, but nothing happened. The voice had faded from my sensory net and I knew without knowing how I knew, that the voice had gone back to wherever it came from and would not be back again unless I did something to frag it off.

I also knew something else – whoever it was who'd spoken to me was _not _Primus. Primus might be able to invade my entire frame, but he would not have laughed … not like that. Whoever it was, was an ordinary mech. Well, maybe not so ordinary – I'd never met any mech who'd been able to do _that._ I wasn't going to examine it too closely. Something told me that if I tried, I wouldn't understand it, and more to the point, I probably wouldn't like it too much.

I glanced again at the fortress and saw that the mechs that had held me captive had disappeared from view. Gazing at the citadel and the blinking lights that winked along the bulbous roof, I couldn't get over the strange sensation that I was being watched. It was hard to turn away from Kolkular. I found it repulsive, but strangely compelling. I gasped when I felt my processor being seized again:

**Starscream: Welcome to Kaon. You will see the inside of Kolkular soon enough. **

My optics bulged in their sockets, and almost before I'd completely transformed back to jet mode, I was speeding away from that slagging place with _that_ _voice _still ringing in my audios.


End file.
